THE questions are seemingly endless... Do you smoke when you feel relaxed? Do you smoke when you get angry? Do you smoke when...?
I could tick every box on the SmokeStop questionnaire, handed to me by a nurse at my GP's surgery.
Instead, I'm tempted to skip the lot and write: "Look, I'm an addict! I smoke for any reason and even for no reason. I smoke three fags straight off as soon as I wake up in the morning and, if I'm running low on supplies, I'm first through the door at Lyme News shortly after 5am. I wish I could say I was there to buy a daily paper, but newsagent employees know the truth - because I always ask for 20 Mayfair."
A nicotine addict, through and through - that's me. Ever since I spied my friends with metallic-wrapped cardboard boxes and trendy lighters, sort of forbidden fashion accessories, I've been captivated. Well, initially captivated and now hooked.
My late father's enduring advice through my teens was straight to the point: "You can drink, but you can't smoke - and keep your legs crossed!"
Alcohol is something I either love or hate - depending on the company I'm in. But, I've got two kids and I smoke at least 20-a-day. Sorry, Dad!
In the beginning, I coughed when I puffed on a cigarette and I never inhaled. Smoking was an occasional pastime, which cost me nothing. My friends gave me fags. I can't remember the first time I bought a packet of cigarettes, but I can remember the first time I craved a puff. I was working for a newspaper in Exeter and my boss was forever bailing me out with Dunhill - until, one day, he announced he'd kicked the habit. No more freebies at the financially lean time of the month!
I was in Heaven when he quit the company as well and his replacement turned out to be Alan Butt. The late legend of Westcountry journalism didn't just smoke as a pastime. Oh, no, smoking, for him, was a passion! He'd often have three fags on the go at once and, eventually, the inevitable happened - he set his desk on fire!
It was pretty good at my next job, too. At the Plymouth offices of the Sunday Independent, Tina Cooper, Ken Sheldon, Stuart Fraser and I kept the newsroom pretty smog-ridden. I had Angela Rippon's former typewriter in front of me, with ashtrays both sides. Can it get any better than that?
Newspaper companies were quick to adopt No Smoking policies. I haven't been formally allowed to smoke at my desk for at least 14 years. At Archant South West's Devon HQ, the smoking area is set well away from the building. A tall, thin, metallic 'butt bin' marks the spot. (I'm responsible for emptying it on a rotational basis.) It's fairly exposed to the elements and a nearby tree offers little shelter during frequent inclement spells. Exeter Airport is prone to freezing temperatures and biting winds, in my experience. It's quite a miserable thing to be a smoker at work - especially now my travelling Smoking Room, my beloved red Ford Escort, has been put out to pasture. I'm getting a brand, spanking new 08-plate any day, so there's no going back.
Out and about, I used to look forward to meetings and breaks in coffee shops and pubs where I could smoke. One of my favourite haunts was the coffee shop in Black Lion Court, Honiton. It was a magnet for smokers, a rare haven for a breed set apart by a modern form of discrimination. Increasingly, I was in a clan that found itself with nowhere to go. Not in the warm, anyway!
When the ban on smoking in public places became law last summer, I was defiant. I'd sooner smoke on a street corner than even venture into a pub or coffee shop. I only ever really went in them to use an ashtray!
My smoking haunt in Honiton ever since has been a spot next to a litterbin in Lace Walk car park. Yes, I've been on public display while satisfying my craving for nicotine - but, hey, I've spotted some great stories at the same time! Every cloud has a silver lining!
I'm actually not as resilient to change as I make out. I don't enjoy cigarettes anymore; I just HAVE to smoke them. They leave a lingering smell on everything from my breath to my clothes, and they cost a small fortune. I'm not into rolling my own, so there's no way to reduce the cost - other than to give up.
As I get older, I find myself pondering more and more on death. I'm an extremely morbid creature. Every song I hear is a potential funeral march. Just ask Scott Phillips, of Sweet Black Angels... When he turned up clutching his second album, Expect The Waking, I almost immediately asked: Anything suitable for my funeral? He said I'd like 'She Makes Me'. Love the song - just don't think mourners (if my death attracts any) will consider it suitable for the occasion. Plus, will the Rector of Honiton, Reverend Roberts, allow it in St Paul's? I love another track on the album, too, but is 'Psychopathic Woman' a suitable epitaph? Some might say it is, in my case!
I've suddenly realised I'm not particularly 'young' anymore, and it's scary. I'm still a teenager at heart, but the fearlessness of adolescence has dimmed. The flame of my youth has gradually diminished, to the point of almost being snuffed out. I even wear slippers. How bad is that?
I'm asthmatic, my parents died young and, I could swear, I've had the odd minor heart attack. Whether I've got to the age where indigestion sets in or my arteries start to clog, I don't know. I just feel, in my heart of hearts, that I have overdone things.
My kids hate me smoking. Even my son, who's approaching 18, nags me. My daughter, approaching 13, is even worse. What if I dropped dead tomorrow and my daughter was left on her own? What if there was something I could have done to prevent it? What if that 'something' was giving up smoking?
Because I'm an addict, I don't always care. It's the shocking truth. We have all got to die of something, including me. That's what I tell myself. I also think: the damage has already been done. What can I do now to turn back the clock?
According to a chart at the doctor's, the benefits of giving up smoking are almost immediate. There are longer-term benefits, too. Life, presumably, is one of them!
I'm sick and tired of being smoker. I want to change. That's why I'm giving up smoking on Wednesday, March 12 - National No Smoking Day.
Straight away, I want to stress I'm very weak-willed. However, I'm going to give it my best shot.
The last time I seriously tried to give up smoking I managed to be ***-free for three weeks. To this day, I blame constipation for my relapse. I HAD to have a *** to 'go', if you know what I mean.
An addict, however, WOULD say that. And I'm an addict!
Ex-Lax at the ready...